Disclaimer: Characters were created way before I was born by a much better writer than I, JRR Tolkien.

Author's Notes: Once again, my most sincere thanks for all the kind words. In response to a couple of reviews about Elboron's "baby talk," I will say that at four years old, children are still learning how to string complex sentences together, and slight speech impediments are certainly normal. Of course, every child varies. But this is what I've chosen for this child. I hope you still find him as adorable as I do;) Enjoy this chapter!

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A Love Beyond All Fear

by Kristen Elizabeth

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"Éowyn. Love, drink this."

She opened her eyes just enough to see her beloved husband sitting next to her on the bed, a cup of steaming liquid in his hand. "What…" The question trailed away.

"It will relax you," Faramir told her, as the Queen had explained it to him after she had mixed the herbs for the tea herself. He brushed stray strands of hair off her face, murmuring soft words of comfort. "Drink."

With his help, Éowyn lifted her head and managed to swallow a few sips before her energy gave out and she dropped back against the pillows. "Faramir," she whispered. "I want you to know…I love you with all of my heart."

"I know it without having to hear the words," he whispered back.

"But I would have you…hear the words if this is my last chance…to say them."

His eyes wet with leftover tears, Faramir set the cup aside and took her slender hand between his battle-roughened palms. Kissing the tips of her fingers, he replied firmly, "I have never commanded anything of you, my lady, but as your husband, I order this. You will not talk of dying, do you understand?"

Éowyn closed her eyes, her own tears flowing steadily. "It is the first decree from a man that I desire to heed, but I must consider that I will not be able to obey it." Her eyes opened. "Before the King begins the birth, bring my brother and our son to me. Please."

He hesitated, but finally lowered his head and nodded. "I shall."

It only took a few minutes to summon the requested pair; Éowyn found her spirits lifting when her beloved brother entered the bedchamber with Elboron in his shielding embrace.

Her baby, not a baby anymore she had to remind herself, reached for her with his small arms. Éomer set the boy down on the bed, and she was instantly grateful that the sheets had been changed and there was no blood that might frighten the boy.

"Uncle let me up on his horse," he informed her, his voice muffled as he buried his face in her neck. "I want you to see me, Mot'er."

Hugging his little body, Éowyn couldn't stop her tears. "I will. Just as soon as I can."

Elboron lifted his head and looked at his father. "Make her better, Fat'er."

Faramir drew in a ragged breath. "If it were in my power." He reached for his son and lifted him into his arms. "Come. It is time you were safe in bed."

"I shall take him if you so desire," Arwen volunteered. She stood aside with Aragorn as he prepared everything he would need for the difficult birth.

"Thank you, my lady." After he handed his son to the beautiful elf, he watched the two of them go. "Sleep well, my son."

In the meanwhile, Éomer knelt next to his sister's bed and grasped her hand. "Do you see now what happens to young maids of Rohan when they dally with the men of Gondor?" he teased, although the words were sticky with his worry.

"I was present for the birth of my own nephew, brother, and if you were unsure, your wife of Gondor will not hesitate to remind you of the pain she endured to bring forth the son of a man of Rohan." She gave him as much of a glare as she could manage.

"Do you hear this?" Éomer asked his sister's husband. "Even in such a state, my sister's tongue never goes dull."

Faramir smiled. "I would not have it any other way, brother."

Rohan's king looked back at the White Lady. "Be ever strong," he told her in a low voice. "As I know you are."

"You were the first man to occupy my heart," she told him through fresh tears. "Know that."

He dipped his head and pressed a brotherly kiss to her forehead. "I expect to hear the cry of my newest kinsman soon," he told her. Standing up, he looked at Faramir for a moment before clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Take care of her."

Faramir didn't have to reply. The look in his eyes was enough to ensure the protective brother that he had every intention of doing so. With that, Éomer-king took his leave.

Aragorn approached the bed. The sleeves of his tunic had been rolled back high on his muscular arms and his hands were freshly scrubbed. "My lady," he said to Éowyn. "Are you ready?"

She inhaled a huge breath and reached for Faramir's hand. This time it was right there, waiting for her. With their fingers entwined, she nodded firmly. "I am."

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All she knew was pain. Pain coursing from the center of her body to the tips of her fingers and toes. It had become her entire world from the moment Aragorn hands reached into her womb to align the babe's arms with its body to make for a smooth delivery.

"Breathe," Faramir said into her ear and tried to do as she was told. But she could feel everything as the King tugged the baby out of her, feet first. And when all but the head had appeared, she felt her husband grasp her hand even harder.

"This will be the worst part," Aragorn warned her. "You must push, Éowyn, as hard as you can."

"I know…I know," she breathed. But no amount of willpower could stop her from screaming as she pushed. Red-hot pain ripped her apart as she expelled the child into the King's waiting arms. The long-awaited first cry of the newborn filled the room.

"Shhh, my love." Faramir's lips were warm and wet against her cheek. "You did it…you did it."

"Lord Faramir, Lady Éowyn, you have a beautiful girl," Aragorn announced with much pride.

Although relieved a bit, the new mother was still hurting too much to do more than begin to cry. Her husband blinked several times as he looked at the blood-streaked, wriggling infant that the King held up. She was small, so much smaller than his son on the day of his birth. Perhaps it was because this was a girl. His daughter.

He wanted to hold her in his arms, to touch her as if to make sure she really was healthy, but she was still connected to his wife. Aragorn quickly passed the child to his own wife who waited with a warm blanket, and with a knife, severed the birth cord. Whispering sweet words in Elvish to calm the wailing child, Arwen began to clean her of the blood and mucus.

Because she expected the afterbirth to follow, Éowyn did not think anything of the next pain that gripped her. But when it continued without stop and grew much sharper than what she remembered happening directly after Elboron's birth, she pulled at Faramir's hand.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's the matter?"

"I know not," she replied in a faint voice. "But there is something…wrong."

Faramir looked frantically at the King. "My lord?"

Sweat beaded Aragorn's forehead as it pulled into a frown. "Éowyn, describe this pain. Is it merely the afterbirth?"

"I do not believe that it is…" She stopped suddenly, confronted with a new sensation. The desire to push. Her hand gripped her husband's so hard that his fingers turned white. "I believe…" For once, the White Lady had no words at her disposal. "I believe…another child comes."

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Word spread through the house like a summer wildfire. The Lady Éowyn had given birth to one babe, but her labor was not over, as there was another on the way. Whispered prayers and exclamations over the rarity of identical children drifted up and down the hallways until they reached the King of Rohan. Upon hearing this news, the man raced for the bedchamber.

He arrived a few minutes too late. When he entered, he saw Elessar-king holding the second child, another tiny girl. The first babe, having been cleaned up, rested in the arms of the Queen.

Aragorn discreetly drew a sheet over Éowyn's lower body. "It would seem that you are an uncle three times over now," he told Éomer with a chuckle.

"Twins," his sister's husband was saying to his exhausted wife. "We have two girls, my lady."

Éowyn tried to smile. "I want to see them," she barely whispered.

The King and Queen brought the girls over to their mother. Save for the fact that the youngest had yet to be bathed, they were perfect copies of each other. Tufts of hair too dark to be called blond crowned each of their heads; the elder's eyes were open to reveal the clouded blue of the newly born.

"They are perfect." Éowyn choked on a sob. "Name them, my lord, as we…decided."

Faramir reached for his daughters; Aragorn and Arwen placed one child in each of his arms. Gazing upon the first, his face shining with paternal pride and love, he declared, "Our first daughter shall be called Edoawen." He kissed the curve of her forehead.

"A good name," the Queen murmured.

"For a future Shieldmaiden," the King couldn't help but add.

"And our second daughter, but loved none the less for it, shall be called…" Faramir paused. "My lady, we only decided the one name if it was to be a girl. As I recall, there was not another choice that we both agreed…" His words faded as he looked down at his wife. "Éowyn…"

Her eyes were closed and her lashes rested heavily upon her ghostly pale cheeks. Her breath came too slowly and far too shallow when it did. Limp hands rested on her stomach, and just below them, at the apex of her body, a stain of blood red dotted the white sheet covering her.

Faramir heard nothing from that moment on. His ears were deaf to Aragorn's commands that Éomer leave, that the midwife lift the sheet…and the curses that escaped the King's mouth when he saw the pool of blood rapidly soaking the bed. He was frozen, paralyzed with terror. He couldn't even feel the midwife and the Queen taking his daughters from him.

All he could see was the life slipping out of his wife, his beloved Éowyn.

And all he knew was that he was powerless to stop it.

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To Be Continued